Today's tattooed poet is Noemi Soto, who sent us this lovely, colorful photo of her tattoo:

Photo Courtesy of Noemi Soto

Noemi explains:

"I designed the tattoo for myself during a pretty rough period after a major breakup about 6 years ago. I wanted it to represent the heartbreak that I was feeling at the time but still hold hope for the future. The artist who tattooed me was Danielle Distefano while she was working out of Dare DevilTattoo on Ludlow Street in Manhattan."

Danielle is currently tattooing out of Only You Tattoo in Atlanta, Georgia.

Noemi offers up this poem:

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

Back when I was youngerMy mother tried to protect my heartAlways telling me to never bare my insides for a manto never let him in fully so that he may devour what I hold dearto not let a man do to me what had been done to her

Her backbone used to show signs of strength but now lacks the stamina to withstand the battleShe was once a woman so strong in her willbut with every man in her life taking pieces of her for themselvesshe has now become a mere shell of herselfThe stink of her childhood still lingering in her hair

I was witness to the tug of war my father and her used to playsaw the push and pull of their heartsthere was nothing unconditional about their lovenot even when it came to methere is nothing sentimental and heartfelt in the throwing of pots, pans and fists“I love you” cannot be said through the gnashing of one’s teeth

So when it came time for my will to be testedI acted on what I saw and not what I was toldWhat I was shown was that to be a woman meant having to bend your spine so far back to please your man that you broke yourself in twoTo stretch those parts of yourself out so that you may give him the smoothest of surfaces in which he may stomp your hopes and dreams intoTo ignore his faults and accept them as your ownHow dare you even think otherwise?

I was taught that… to be a woman meant having to pick up the pieces that were left behind from his war pathmaking sure only your feet bled in the process to save hisBeing a woman always meant never asking any questionsto let him roam and if he comes back … well… what more do you want?

I followed all of these lessons very carefullymade sure I folded the laundry just righthad dinner ready when he came homeand always made sure to give him his spaceonly to find myself face down on the floor, arms pinned behind me, with all of his weight pressing his right knee into my backI waited until he left the room to get up

I stayed in silencestill willing to be the woman behind the manStill willing to be the glass which he slammed his fist againstshattering any sense of self worth I had just for himI began to wonder if this really was what it meant to be a woman or just the kind of woman who was so lost in herself that she was willing to let a man tell her what she should beand if it did …. Then I had to learn to become my own womanand I couldn’t do that by being underneath his thumb

So I bent back each one of his fingers till they snapped at the joints to show him how serious I wasIt was the only way to break freeand while he screamed in pain and cursed me for having been bornI cleared a way for myself through the broken home which I was sure would last foreverletting him know that he no longer had a hold on me

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